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There's something so sick about         this emotional capacity Before breakfast we plant atomic bombs in our neighbors yard                                                                like bulbs of (glad)iolus Haven't you noticed how much gardens look like graveyards My cereal, ceiling, bathroom, and skin         All say Made in China This homeland is looking more like that land Ughhh and you can see the blood in my pink nail polish from that sweat shop girl It's not supposed to be RED! ooOooopps did we just learn how to commercialize genocide I'm wondering when I'll wake up with a barcode Will it be on my eyelids              my arms                                           my soul Maybe God was in the bees And now Now there's no more honey, flowers, or trees                           Just time. My brothers both went to war It's not Wal-Mart But it's open 24/7, checkout through Heaven And I don't think they're coming home Not without bones implanted in their brains sharp, jagged, broken ones That kind that make you uncomfortable with your memories The one's that make it hard to sleep Last week I found a dead cat   A dead bird in the snow When I turned around the corner, I saw myself I was lying in the street           Dead, dead And I felt nothing
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
Too Desensitized to find my way Home
There's something so sick about         this emotional capacity Before breakfast we plant atomic bombs in our neighbors yard                                                                like bulbs of (glad)iolus Haven't you noticed how much gardens look like graveyards My cereal, ceiling, bathroom, and skin         All say Made in China This homeland is looking more like that land Ughhh and you can see the blood in my pink nail polish from that sweat shop girl It's not supposed to be RED! ooOooopps did we just learn how to commercialize genocide I'm wondering when I'll wake up with a barcode Will it be on my eyelids              my arms                                           my soul Maybe God was in the bees And now Now there's no more honey, flowers, or trees                           Just time. My brothers both went to war It's not Wal-Mart But it's open 24/7, checkout through Heaven And I don't think they're coming home Not without bones implanted in their brains sharp, jagged, broken ones That kind that make you uncomfortable with your memories The one's that make it hard to sleep Last week I found a dead cat   A dead bird in the snow When I turned around the corner, I saw myself I was lying in the street           Dead, dead And I felt nothing
Mosaic
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
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